


I Can Be A Handful (But That's Why You Have Two Hands)

by trxtr



Series: 12 DAYS OF TARLOS [2]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Owen is a good dad, Protective Carlos Reyes, Protective Owen Strand, TK Strand Needs A Hug, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr
Summary: So much so, that after shift in mid-December, when Tk was spending the night at Carlos’s, he practically begged his boyfriend to let him stop by his house and check on his dad.“You know you can tell me we’re stopping for sweaters, Tk.”Tk found himself laughing at the statement. There was a fondness to Carlos’s voice that Tk wasn’t necessarily used to, but it was welcome.“I’m not just going to my house for sweaters. My dad’s got Buttercup this week since he can’t be around the station with his paw.” Tk defended. “And I need to know how his appointment went today. It’s the first one that I haven’t been to in months.”or:Tk really likes ugly sweaters; Tk really misses his mom.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes & Owen Strand, Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, TK Strand/Owen Strand
Series: 12 DAYS OF TARLOS [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056740
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	I Can Be A Handful (But That's Why You Have Two Hands)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoy. Leave it to me to make things a lil angsty.

It was a joke, at first.

Tk swore it was, even though the first day he walked in with a sweater two sizes too big and two decades too late, most of the station didn’t bat an eye. He was Tk, always willing and welcome to pull something as stupid as an unprompted ugly sweater contest.

He had a stash under his bed at his father’s place, so the moment December rolled around, or the temperature would drop lower than sixty degrees fahrenheit ( _ pussy numbers, _ according to any New Yorker), Tk would yank out the tote and slide a sweater onto his torso before his father could even call him out for breakfast. 

And, it was fine, at first, his  _ obsession  _ (according to his father and all his friends at the station). He would show up in an ugly sweater, change into uniform, and the pull it over when they were off duty or between calls. He did everything in a sweater, anyway, what was a couple extra snowflakes or reindeer around the holidays? It was safe. It was warm, and cozy and happy and it felt like a warm hug around him at literally all times and—

He really liked his ugly sweaters.

So much so, that after shift in mid-December, when Tk was spending the night at Carlos’s, he practically begged his boyfriend to let him stop by his house and  _ check on his dad. _

“You know you can tell me we’re stopping for sweaters, Tk.”

Tk found himself laughing at the statement. There was a fondness to Carlos’s voice that Tk wasn’t necessarily used to, but it was welcome.

“I’m not  _ just _ going to my house for sweaters. My dad’s got Buttercup this week since he can’t be around the station with his paw.” Tk defended. “And I need to know how his appointment went today. It’s the first one that I haven’t been to in months.”

Carlos pursed his lips as he made a turn onto Congress. “Okay,” he hummed. “But I demand to see your entire collection.”

Tk snickered. “Why, you want some?”

“God, no,” Carlos replied, glancing at Tk and giving him a once-over from the drivers seat. “ I just wanna know how many you have.”

“No you don’t,” Tk joked. He looked at Carlos, then to the road ahead of them. “It’s not a collection I take lightly. I have  _ at least _ two for every day in December.”

Carloc flipped on the turn signal, inhaling quickly. “Tk, thats… That’s literally sixty-two sweaters.”

“At least,” Tk corrected.

Carlos thought for a moment, and Tk found himself trying to anticipate the next words out of his boyfriend’s mouth, but after a few seconds, Carlos spoke up again. “Why?”

A gentle sense of insecurity washed over Tk, and he subconsciously shoved his hands in the pocket of the day’s sweater. ‘What do you mean, why?” 

“I mean, everyone has that one thing that they love, and have a lot of, and I think I’ve gathered that yours is atrocious holiday sweaters, but why?”

“I don't know,” Tk lamented. “My mom would always pick them up when I was little. We got, like, custom matching ones with her and my dad when I was little. It's a fond memory, and the feeling, I guess,” He took a breath. “The feeling I get when I’m in them reminds me of my childhood, you know? Before the towers came down.” Tk found himself staring intently at the dashboard of Carlos’s camaro, almost shocked that he was able to deduce that, himself. He never really asked himself why. “It feels like I’m being hugged by the people I love; both my parents, especially the tighter ones. It feels like when my mom and dad would wrap me up in a blanket, like, really tight, and hold me there and we would watch cheesy hallmark movies and I would fall asleep as a yarn-burrito something or other.” He took a breath. “I haven't been able to do that since I was, like, seven, so I guess this is the next best thing.”

He could practically hear the gears turning in Carlos’s brain, but he remained quiet, unable to really think of anything other than how much he missed New York—pre 2001 New York— How much he missed his parents. 

“Do you still have the ones from when you were little?” Carlos asked after a moment.

“My dad does, somewhere. He has one that I made in fourth grade hanging on his wall.

“Wait, hold on,” Carlos blinked, finally managing to turn onto Tk’s street. “You  _ made  _ one? In  _ fourth grade? _ ”

Tk let out a loud, wet chuckle at that. “Yeah, Carlos, I did. I knitted it, myself.”

“You can  _ knit? _ ”

Tk snickered and rolled his eyes while Carlos parked next to his home. “Its actually a much more appreciated craft in New York, believe it or not,” He shrugged. “I learned to do it in, like, second grade. My mom picked it up and I learned with her—not that she ever knitted after she learned, you know. Lawyer things.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “I don't care about your mom, Tk. I care that you can knit and you never told me.” He pressed his pointer finger into Tk’s temple playfully. “C’mon, Tk. I never took you for the knitting type.”

“You know, I wouldn’t stereotype if I were you.”

“Says the guy who called Judd  _ Yee-Yee _ for two weeks straight,” Carlos retorted.

Tk scoffed and opened his door, pushing himself out onto the driveway. “Yeah, he kept calling me  _ Pretty Boy _ .”

“Can you blame him?” Carlos chuckled. He swiped around the car to meet up with Tk at the front door, sneaking a peck on the cheek before the boy pushed himself inside.

“Dad, I’m home! I brought Carlos.”

There was shuffling from the other room for a moment, then both Owen and Buttercup trudged into the kitchen, exhausted looking. Tk frowned. “That bad?”

“No,” Owen assured. “No, Tk, I’m good, its just, you know, chemo…” He shrugged. “And buttercup busted his stitches so I had to take him back to the vet. He was nervous, but overall, was a very good boy.”

Tk sighed, his shoulders sagging in a disappointed worry. “No, no, Dad, you should have  _ called  _ me.” He met his fathers eyes with a practiced calmness, while Carlos’s arm snaked around him, matching his expression.

“You had a shift, Tk.”

“I have a Dad, too,” He retorted. “One who needed me, today, and didn’t call.” He knelt down to pet buttercup, examining the dog’s fresh bandaging. “I mean, come on, he may have cancer, dad, but he's still a Burnese Mountain Dog. He must have been exhausting at the vet today.”

“He was,” Owen nodded. “But it’s okay. We’re okay, Tk.”

Tk looked from the dog, to his father, to Carlos, and back to his father. He sighed, getting up, and taking Carlos’s hand. He turned to whisper into his ear, “Rain check on tonight? I dont want to leave him alone.”

And, instead of a disappointed look, Carlos threw on a grin. “Is there any way I could help out here?”

Tk shrugged, turning back to his father. “Can Carlos stay over?” He laughed a little, feeling like he was sixteen again, asking his father if one of his friends could stay the night at his house. The memories, themselves, weren’t the fondest, but the feeling was joyful, and he couldn't help but think if he had Carlos all those years ago, maybe the memories would be, too. 

“I thought you two were staying at his, tonight?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Tk, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem, Owen,” Carlos insisted. “ Tk spent half the ride here going on and on about how much he missed you at work.”

“Did not.”

“You didn't? I don't know, Tk, it sounded an awful lot like you did.” Carlos’s lips quirked up, slightly when Tk whined in protest. 

“You’re such an ass,” Tk retorted, but he leaned into Carlos, nonetheless, brushing his nose against the other’s cheek. “But, yeah, I did miss you at work today, Dad.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a good captain, and Judd is easily distracted, and it was slow today and I enjoy beating your ass at that tiny put-put practice field you have in your office.”

“Your’re not that good,” Owen scoffed. “So, it was slow?”

“We had two calls.”

Owen grimaced, and Tk laughed, shoving his head into Carlos’s shoulder. He eventually moved away from the other. He shuffled over to his father, pulling him into a gentle side hug. “I’m gonna go get changed. Is there anything you want for dinner?”

“I can cook.”

Tk rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I asked you,” he said. “I asked what you wanted for dinner.”

“I don’t know. I picked up some stuff, today, we can throw something together.” He looked at Tk, who was now pushing him back toward the couch. 

Tk was about to reply, but Carlos spoke up, behind him. “I can take care of that. Mami always told me that I could cook a four course meal with four ingredients,” He smiled at the two.

Tk hummed in agreement as his father sat down. “I now know how to cook an egg  _ at least _ seven different ways.” He stepped back towards the doorway, cracking a smile at his father. “I’ll be right back. Gotta get changed.”

“What sweater you thinking?” Owen asked him, his lips pressed into an identical smile as his son. “Because if you wanna do the purple one, you should get mine.”

“What about Carlos?” Tk mock-pouted. 

“You can share.”

“Dad—”

“Not like you haven’t done it, before,” Owen deadpanned. 

“It would stretch it out.”

“Don’t you like them big?” 

Tk opened his mouth, but closed it, after a moment. His entire demeanor shifted, and he was back to the same mood as when he entered the house; worried; afraid. “I, uhm… I’m gonna go with the light blue one for tonight. We can match at work tomorrow.” 

Owen nodded and watched his son scurry to his bedroom with no further explanation. “What… was that?” He asked after a moment.

Carlos blinked, turning to face Owen. He was staring at the man, who was looking back, in confusion, wondering if he should tell the other what it actually was.

“I think he just… really needs a hug,” Carlos blinked. “Like, a really long, tight hug.”

Owen sighed, eyes flicking from the hall, then to Carlos. “He needs his mom.”

Carlos drew his eyebrows together, taking a seat next to Owen. He didn't know if Owen had picked up on Tk’s obsession, or why it was there, but it seemed he did, and Carlos didnt want to shut him down if he was right. “What do you mean?”

“Gwen is a good mother, Carlos,” Owen started. “She was always so careful with Tk; so observant and kind and she picked up on things he liked. When he was little, and I mean like one or two little;  _ tiny _ , Tk would always grab at the soft things he saw, and more often than not, they were these disgusting holiday sweaters. Gwen got them for him; every year, and we would always just have a day; a random day in December where we would sit down, and give him his stupid sweaters, and watch bad movies until he passed out. Gwen always… always told him that they were from us; both of us, even when I had nothing to do with it. Even after I left, they were always from us. I know why he likes them. I know why he needs them and, yeah, I feed the fire a little more every year, but it makes him happy, and it reminds both of us what it's like to actually have a family.” He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “I think he just wants her back.”

“I do.”

Carlos’s gaze snapped up to find Tk in sweatpants, and a light blue sweater with red letterin reading  _ sleigh all day. _ Carlos made a mental note of how precious he looked; how the blue really brought out the warmth in his skin tone, but fir now, he would stay silent, and let them speak.

“I can call her, Tk, you know she would try her hardest to come down her for you.”

“She wouldn't,” Tk deadpanned. “And I know that. That’s okay. I just… really miss her. I miss our stupid sweater nights and movies snd cookies and sitting on the couch. I don’t want her. I want us. Together, being a family again.”

Carlos felt like he wss intruding, but the nervous energy, and the obvious tears in Tk’s eyes made his mouth move before his brain.

“Come here, Amor,” He whispered.

Tk didn't even think. He instantly walked to the couch, and sat in the empty space in between his boyfriend and his father. He brought his knees to his chest and leaned on Carlos. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t normally think too much about it.”

“It’s okay to think about it, T,” Owen muttered, throwing an arm around his son. “But, right now, let’s think about what bad hallmark movie you two want to watch.”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I think that’s a great idea, Owen. I’ll start dinner while you two get that figured out.”

Tk whined at that, but shifted positions to lay on his father, this time. He let Caelos go, before sighing, “We’re matching at work, tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Owen said. “I know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments/kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> [tumblr](https://trkstrnd.tumblr.com)


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